Pohihihi
by TheDogo
Summary: Hell, there were whole swaths of Danny's life that Steve had no clue about. And vise-versa.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Author's Note:_** _One minute Steve thought he had everything under control and then smack, hello fucking pavement._

_More warm thanks to Wenwalke and fifilla for smacking the rookie upside the head. Another bugger to get on the page because … well, just because it's Steve's POV this time! And yes, I messed with it after it came back. So all remaining mistakes are my own. Yes, I know Wenwalke, just … stop laughing at me._

_And, Happy January Birthday, praemonitus praemunitus! Yeah, well, I never said I was timely :) And yes, sorry, sorry. I couldn't just whump one of them ;) Even though you asked for just Steve._

_Also, this is the beginning of a series of one shots that will be based upon what Danny and Steve don't know about each other. They'll be more when I can get to them ;)_

_Enjoy!_

**_Pohihihi – Not clearly understood._**

"Danny, don't." Steve took a step forward, his arms spread out no higher than his shoulders, palms turned backwards towards his teammates. "Just give me a minute." Danny was flanking him on his left, Chin on his right. Without having to look, Steve knew that Kono had eyes on the kid brandishing the gun from her placement on the nearest rooftop. "_Christ, how did this get so out of hand?"_ One minute Steve thought he had everything under control and then smack, hello fucking pavement.

"Put the gun down, Jason." Steve took another step forward, arms still spread wide, his SIG-Sauer gripped comfortably within his hand, palms now facing the kid. "I just wanna talk."

"Oh, yeah? Like you talked to my Mom, kept in touch with her all those years? Made sure she was alright?"

Steve winced inside, but kept his face neutral and his stance as non-threatening as possible. He didn't actually know what to say to that. Because he didn't know where Jason's mom was, or how she was doing. From the looks of things, though, Rebecca was likely not doing all that well.

"I tried to keep in touch with your mom, Jase …"

"No, you didn't! You jumped ship the first second you had the chance!" Jason pressed his semi-automatic Sccxy CPX-1 into the temple of the hostage, causing her to wince and then take a step forward to keep her balance. Steve saw Danny move closer out of the corner of his eye, his partner's elbows locked in front of him, his finger just outside the trigger guard. Steve angled his next step closer to the shooter and slightly towards his partner.

"Danny, wait." He never took his eyes off of the threat, but could _feel_ the waves of tension rolling off his teammates as the stand-off continued. Chin still maintained his ground on the right, but there was no way he was going to make Danny back off now.

They'd gotten the call for a hostage situation less than an hour ago. A local mom and pop store front, where the only thing the older employee had done wrong was show up for work that day. Normally, this would have been something handled by SWAT, but the suspect had asked for McGarrett and wouldn't talk to anyone else. So with Steve now acting as the lead, SWAT and his team were his back-up. HPD had cordoned off the perimeter. The kid was going nowhere.

"Jase …"

"Shut up, McGarrett. You've got nothing I wanna hear. I'm here for one reason. Take your vest off." The barrel of the semi-automatic ground in further, the hostage whimpering. Both shooter and victim were perfectly framed within the store's doorway. One step backwards and the pair would disappear into the blackness of the entrance, perfect cover for their perp. Five-0 and the rest of law enforcement would be right back to the beginning of the standoff if that were to happen.

"Jase, stop …"

"Take it off!" Spittle flew out of Jason's mouth, the kid's eyes narrowing. "Take it off … Take it off, NOW!"

"Steven …" The warning in his partner's voice was clear, but he ignored it.

The click of the side release buckle from one shoulder of Steve's vest made Danny take another step forward, his upper body turning to present less of a target.

"Danny, stop!" The rip of Velcro from the release of the mid-section, and his blond partner side-stepped again, the same time as he did. This time though, Steve was just feet from their shooter as he let the vest drop onto the concrete. Torn between keeping his partner out of it and getting Jason to step down, Steve sidled even more towards Danny, a tactical maneuver that was bad, bad, bad judgment on his part. They should be sticking with a divide and then conquer tactic … _"Don't provide the shooter with more targets within close proximity, you idiot."_ Steve could just hear his partner's inner rant trying to stretch across the short distance between them, because he could almost touch Danny now too.

"Jason, look, I don't know …"

"No, you don't! Cause you were never there. Not for me. Not for my mom. And not for my DAD! You remember him, right? The guy who died because of you?"

Something must have shifted in Steve's face, because Jason leered at the sight of it.

"That's right, the SEAL that bled out because your team focused on saving you, when what they should have done was just left you. Isn't that what you told us, told my mom, over and over again? They should've left you behind and saved my dad instead? Let you die in that field so Dad could come home to us?"

The kid was red faced, his hands visibly shaking. Steve could see Jason's index finger caressing the trigger, just itching for a negligent discharge. Even if his team managed to take the kid out, the reflexive contraction as he went down might end the hostage's life.

Sweat made Steve's shirt stick to his back. He'd give anything to roll his shoulders to ease the stress, but he was afraid that a move of his upper body might set the kid off, make him squeeze when he shouldn't. So he kept inching forward and to the left, ever so slightly, until he was almost directly in front of his partner.

_"Come on, just a few more feet and I can stop this."_

"Steven …" Another warning from Danny that he ignored. This kid was his responsibility and his fuck up to fix.

"Ja …"

Before he could get the whole name out, he caught movement and made the rookie mistake of letting his gaze flicker over to the left, just past Danny. A SWAT officer had shifted position for a better angle on the kid. It took a split second, and before he knew it, too many things happened all at once to keep track of.

The hostage screamed as her legs gave way, unbalancing their shooter after he'd pulled the gun away from the woman's temple to aim at Steve. Then the sound of four repetitive gunshots, the second, third, and fourth almost on top of each other, before pain overloaded his remaining senses. A burning in his side as the impact, of what he was damn certain was the first bullet, spun him around and deposited him on his hands and knees facing away from the action, panting. Next, a protest, that he couldn't hear, but he was sure was coming from him, got mixed up with the confusion coming over his com link once the shooting stopped.

_"Officer's down … EMT's …"_

"NO! No, no, NO!" He could feel his voice tear through his throat as he pivoted in place, still on his hands and knees. He ignored the fact that he no longer had his own weapon in hand, his sight, wavering in and out, locking onto Jason. The kid was sprawled on his back, arms almost perfectly akimbo, the discharged weapon several feet away from him. Jason's legs were askew and unmoving. "No, no, no, no …" He mumbled as he clumsily bear crawled the last few feet needed to get to their shooters side, ignoring the small bits of gravel and dirt imbedding into his palms. It had been a heart shot that had taken the kid out, punched through from front to back, if the amount of blood seeping along the baked blacktop was anything to go by. In the back of his mind, Steve knew that shot came from the rooftop, from Kono, but he was still trying to catch up with what else had happened, because there was another entrance wound to the shoulder.

Aware that he was contaminating the crime scene and not caring, he sat down, hard, legs splayed out in front of him as he reached forward to grab at Jason's shoulders, pulling the kid towards him. Not until the boy's head was resting on his lap did he stop tugging at him, checking for a pulse at the carotid, though he knew there wouldn't be one.

"Damn it, Jason. Why'd you have to go and do that …" Tears threatened to leak down his cheeks, but he held them back, allowing just his sweat to trickle down the sides of his face and drip off of his chin. Small motor functions suddenly left him, like the ability to make his fingers listen so he could close the kid's eyes. Eyes that were lifeless, but still seemed to be staring at him, accusingly. His sight wavered again, and then suddenly, Kono was beside him.

"Boss? Can I see?"

She was tugging at the left side of his shirt, right about where the fabric met his waistline. He batted her hands away.

"Steve, you're bleeding here."

She'd managed to get the hem of his shirt lifted before he could smack her hand away again.

"No."

"Steve …"

"No!"

Her hands were hovering, uncertainty clearly written across her face. He didn't care, until he looked away and saw Chin hovering, low to the ground, beside the prone form of his partner. Not even Danny's legs were moving.

"Danny? No … crap, Danny!" Barely able to keep his torso upright, Steve cradled the kids head until he could place it gently on the asphalt once he'd scooted backwards. He scrambled to his hands and knees again, and after taking too much time, got to his feet long enough to stumble his way over to Danny's side, Kono just behind him. He dropped back down to his knees, almost face planting beside his partner, opposite Chin.

"God, Danny, no." He couldn't get the words to come out stronger than a whisper. Uncertain where to place he hands, he looked over to his teammate. "Chin?" The Hawaiian stayed crouched down, but turned his head to look at him.

"He's breathing … strong pulse. I think he caught one in the vest after he got off that shot." Chin turned his attention back to their teammate, placing a gloved palm between Danny's cheek and the blacktop. "Hey, Danny, can you hear me?"

His partner's face was turned towards Chin, so Steve couldn't get a good look at him when Danny moaned. He caught the movement of his legs though, and his twitching fingers. Steve's vision swam then, his relief causing goose bumps, right before nausea swamped him. He scrambled several feet away from his teammates, still on hands and knees, to retch. This time he would've biffed it right back down into his puke had it not been for Kono's hands latching onto his shoulders.

"Easy, Steve …"

The lilt of Kono's voice washed over him, more than her words, as he began to dry heave. Kept dry heaving, until his teammate wasn't the only one at his side.

"Commander?"

Steve shook his head 'no' at the voice, because it wasn't the voice that he needed to hear. Not certain he stomach was done with him, he raised a hand off the blacktop to pat at the fingers still strangling his shoulder. Tears, from puking, mixed with the snot and bile that strung down from his nose and open mouth. He barely had the energy to spit it away.

"Commander, I want to place you on your side …"

Steve shook his head 'no' again. Fairly certain this time that he was finished, he wiped his sleeve across his face. Disgusting, yes, but efficient, and frankly, he couldn't give a damn. Another tap at Kono's hand on his shoulder as a heads up, and he was upright. Well, almost. He'd at least made it to just kneeling.

"Danny?" His voice was shot to hell and he saw Kono wince from the sound of it. "Help me over there." That sounded even worse. She didn't bother to answer him, just nodded to the EMT, likely knowing that he'd be more complaint once he found out how his partner was. Little did she know that seeing Danny still lying prone across the ground did nothing to ease his guilt, only amplified it. Plus, not only was Chin crouched beside their teammate, an EMT was as well. So even though that should have eased his mind—the thought that his partner was finally receiving medical treatment—the EMT's presence did not, because only the two of them were talking. Danny was quiet again, and the only way Steve knew he was awake was when his partner moved. Sluggish movements that didn't still when Chin said something to try to stop them.

Once the second EMT and Kono eased Steve back down onto his side, he was just close enough so he could reach out to touch Danny and still see Jason no more than ten, maybe fifteen feet from them. No one was paying attention to the dead, only to the living. More than a little part of Steve's psyche shriveled every time he caught a glimpse of someone walking past the kid, or marking evidence around him. He'd already convinced himself that their shooter wouldn't be dead if he'd gotten through to him sooner. And Danny wouldn't be laying on the filthy blacktop struggling to breathe.

He ended up ignoring the questions from the EMT checking his side, his hand reaching out to rest on the nape of his partner's neck. And unsurprisingly, Danny tried to move to face him. He should've remembered his ability to reach his partner when no one else could elicit a true response, but he hadn't.

"No, no, Danny, don't move yet." Chin placed his hand between Danny's shoulder blades to hold him steady. But his partner didn't still. Instead, he turned his head far enough to face Steve, his eyes still closed and he groaned at the effort.

"Hey, do what … do what Chin says. Stay still." Steve's voice kept giving out on him, and when he tried to raise his head to get a better look at his partner, the world began to spin, making him slam his eyelids closed and set his head back down. Even closed though, his equilibrium kept tilting, renewing his nausea until he was forced to keep swallowing repeatedly. Another groan reached his ears, but he wasn't certain if it came from him or his partner. His hand had trailed down to Danny's shoulder and he just about registered the sound of Velcro releasing on his partner's tac vest before someone tried to peel his fingers out of his friend's long sleeved dress shirt.

"No …" His voice croaked out the warning, his hand clenching tighter to the fabric. This time, the groan he heard was from Danny. Steve yanked harder, trying to draw his partner closer.

"Commander? You gotta let go … let go of him, Commander."

"No …" Steve protested again. He kept tugging on Danny's shirt to pull his friend nearer so he could get his arms around him, keep him safe. The voices around Steve were getting more jumbled and more animated when, in a surprising burst of momentum, he managed to latch onto Danny with both fists. A quick turn almost onto his belly and he'd scooped Danny into his chest, rolling into anyone who'd gotten in his way. He was now essentially spooning the smaller man into him, but someone kept trying to pry his fingers open and pull his arms away, so Steve wrapped his legs around his friend's, almost squishing him.

"No, Steve, come on. Let him go …"

Steve registered Chin's voice, but then he lost the cadence of it. Couldn't keep track of everything that was happening around him, why they were trying to get his downed teammate away from him. So he focused solely on the man in his arms, burying his face into his friend's hair and breathing deeply. He concentrated on the rise and fall of the injured man's chest, until the images all around him suddenly slipped and a concussive whump, whump, whump replaced the chaotic sounds of the recent hostage scene altogether.

"No …" A whispered protest, but it was too late. He was back _there_, back to a SEAL mission gone south, before everything around him finally went black and the man he should have saved slipped through his fingers.

H50

Sounds came back first. The clearing of a throat, the mummer of voices, and footfalls all around him. A touch to his shoulder came next, and then the questions …

"Commander McGarrett? Can you hear me?" That was a man's voice on his left. Steve nodded without opening his eyes.

_"Hospital. Got it …"_

"Commander, I'm Doctor Nguyen. You're in recovery following surgery for the gunshot wound you received to your side."

_"That answers that question …"_

Steve nodded again, indicating that he understood, though the doc hadn't asked. He forced his eyelids open, running a hand across his eyelashes to scrub away the feeling of crusted goo before he turned his head to look at the guy.

"Glad to see you're awake, Commander …"

"When …" Steve cleared his throat, "When can I get out of here?" He hated hospitals. So when his doc actually smirked at him, but didn't hesitate with the answer, he cocked a grin back.

"Tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. You've got a deep gash on your side that bled quite a bit before we could get a handle on it, so you'll be tired for a couple of days as your body tries to recover. Multiple sutures that you'll need to keep clean and dressed. Some antibiotics. No heavy lifting for a bit, but overall, you'll be good to go. How's your pain?"

"It's fine. And thanks, doc." Steve liked this guy; no nonsense and straight to the point. But he hoped the doc had caught on to the blatant dismissal and that his patient just wanted an expedited discharge.

Nguyen nodded at him … and then stood there, as if waiting for the inevitable. Steve frowned, worrying the bedding with his fingers. More seconds of nothing and Steve finally gave in.

"What …" And then it hit him, Danny down. Jason dead … Jason's dad. The memories crashed into him like a massive pile-up on the H1 interstate. The force of each fuck up seemed to knock the wind out of him. He tried to curl in on himself, clenching his eyelids closed as he worked to suck the next breath into his lungs.

"Easy, Commander." The doc kept his hand on Steve's shoulder, pressing him back into the mattress. "Your partner will be fine. Your team said he would be the first thing you'd worry about."

"Danny's al…"

"Detective Williams is getting tests run. The bullet caught his vest at the fifth and sixth rib, the impact fracturing both and causing extensive bruising. His release will be dependent on those results. He'll be incredibly sore …"

More memories came flooding back, causing him to lose track of the doc's voice within the images. Glimpses of himself keeping his partner away from medical help. Chin trying to pry Steve off, and then the flashback.

"No …" Steve ground out the protest, shoving images back down, forcing himself to take deeper breaths. The back of his throat hurt at the force and intensity of his growled objection.

"Excuse me?"

"Not you, doc. Sorry …" Still breathing hard and struggling with his racking guilt, Steve managed to get out another question. "Did I …?"

"No. No harm done. I know all about what happened at the scene. Detective Williams is fine. Will be fine. You didn't cause any further injuries. The damage had already been done by the bullet."

There was no judgment in the doc's face, no questions regarding Steve's actions or his need to protect. He would've thanked the man for that small consolation, but he was worn down and the emotional drain was overpowering him. The doc must have picked up on it.

"Get some rest, Commander. I'll check in on you later, once you've been settled. The rest of your team is waiting for word about Detective Williams. We can …"

"No, tell them to stay with Danny. Make sure he's okay. I'm fine. Tell them I'm fine and that I need the rest." He closed his eyes, shutting out the doc's raised eyebrows. His disapproval, or at least Steve's interpretation of the man's tone, was fairly evident in his abbreviated reply.

"Alright. I'll let them know."

A pat to his forearm, and Steve could hear the man move away. He sighed, clenching the sheets and then releasing them. He needed to get out, get out of this place, and get some answers.

H50

Steve heard the sound of the double doors opening, knew who it was before the rant announced the newcomers identity in all his raging glory.

"What the hell is the matter with you, huh? You make me leave the confines of my comfy hospital bed so I can chase down your sorry, AMA ass, for what? What's so damn important that it couldn't wait a day? Or that Chin and Kono couldn't look it up for you?" Danny's right hand was wrapped around his torso, seemingly protecting his ribcage, his left, flailing in a debilitated imitation of his normally, healthy self. He was also slouched and so _un-cocky_ in his stride towards the smart table that Steve was frowning by the time his partner reached it.

"What're you doing here?"

"I asked you first. So my question stands to be answered before yours. A question, I may point out, that's warranted and has merit. So please, enlighten me before the turn of the next century you idiot." Danny drew in a cautious breath, then, seemingly distracted by what was up on the screen, pointed at it. "Who's that?"

"Rebecca, Blake's wife."

"Okay, I give up. For those of us mere mortals still suffering from the effects of too much pain medication still racing through our systems, who's Blake?"

"Jason's dad."

Danny rolled his eyes and released a long, exasperated sigh.

"Yes, I gathered that Blake and Rebecca were said parents of one messed up kid who tried to drill a bullet through your sorry—mind you—unprotected ass…"

"He wasn't aiming for my ass, Danny …"

"… torso … whatever. Now that we've cleared that up, that wasn't the intent of my original question. So, let me repeat it for you. Who's Blake and why was his son gunning for you?"

Before he could answer, Danny reached down into his pants pocket, pulling out a prescription bottle, then another, chucking each one independently at him. His partner smirked when the first one hit him squarely in the chest. It bounced along the glass surface before rolling to a stop. Steve was able to snatch the other one out of the air before it connected.

"Oh, and you forgot these. You're welcome."

Steve glowered, setting both bottles on the smart table with a loud click.

"You want me to answer now?"

Danny gestured a 'please, go ahead', his eyebrows raising in expectation.

"I can't tell you much. It's classified information."

Another eye roll from Danny caused Steve's frown to deepen. He hated it when his partner rolled his eyes at him.

"What's classified? Who Blake is? Why his son was gunning for you? Or the mission that went south?"

Danny leaned against the tabletop, his left palm flat, his fingers splayed. It was as if his partner's arm was holding most of his upper body weight. Steve squinted, studying his friend further, not liking what he was seeing. Before he could get a word out edge wise though, Danny continued.

"No, wait. Let me help you out. I, for one, listen, when people speak. And our young shooter was very forthcoming with information before Kono saved said sorry ass." Danny nodded towards him to make his point. "Blake was a member of one of your SEAL teams. Mission gone bad, Blake dies, kid blames you. Likely because you guilt tripped yourself into believing it was your fault, when it wasn't, but said as much to them anyway. You lost track of the kid, and his mother, and from what you've pulled up here," his partner pointed at the screen again, "it seems that Rebecca is also deceased, died two months ago. Cancer."

Danny slapped his palm back onto the top of the smart table, the smack audible. The tremble to his friend's upper body was more visible as well, but the blond cut him off again when Steve opened his mouth to finally say something.

"What I want to know is why then, in that thick head of yours, you think that this is somehow your fault. I don't need to know about the mission, or why Blake died—though, like I said, I'm sure you think that's on you, too—I want to know why you think a young adult's decision—emphasis on adult, Steven—to pull a gun on an innocent woman is somehow you're doing? That you somehow forced the kid to take a hostage and then actually put a bullet through your flesh? Tell me, please, how that mixed up head of yours thinks that you caused that?"

Danny was panting by the time he'd finished his rant, sweat pouring down his temples. Without lifting up his hand, his partner tried to wipe one side of his face along the top of his shoulder, but then stopped when he lost his balance.

Steve was around the smart table, grabbing his friend's elbow before Danny could topple to the floor.

"Jesus, Danny. Are you done now? Office ... come on." Steve steered his partner towards the couch, Danny shaking so hard now he thought his own teeth would start rattling. The fact that his friend went willingly, and quietly, made all of Steve's self-loathing get set to the side. Once he had his friend settled—Danny's head was tilted onto the back of the couch, hands at his sides, palms up—Steve leaned over to lift up his partner's shirt hem to check the damage for himself, but his hands were knocked weakly away.

"Hands off, McGarrett."

The protest came out as a mumble, but Steve got the message.

"How bad is it?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Danny smirked.

"Funny. Fair enough." Steve collapsed into a sit next to his partner, knees and shoulders touching when he slouched down so his head could rest comfortably against the back of the couch. Now that his friend wasn't making his brain spin, he frowned, turning to stare at him, thinking. "Wait, how'd you get here?"

"Same way as you. I took a cab," Danny mumbled, his eyelids closed, both arms wrapped around his ribcage now.

"Oh, shit! Danny you ..."

"No, no. You don't get to 'oh, shit, Danny' me. This is all your fault, Steven. If I hadn't had to chase your sorry ass all over the island …" One hand weakly gestured, but then dropped back down onto his chest.

"They're going to kill us ..."

"Nope, just you."

"Why just me?" Steve sat up straighter, realization hitting him so hard he ended up jostling Danny, causing his friend to groan. "Wait, if you took a cab that means you ditched Kono and Chin at the hospital, and signed out AMA … what the hell, Danny!"

"They were distracted looking for you, so it was easy. Besides, what's with the pot, kettle, black thingy you've got going on here?" Danny shrugged. "You just went 'poof', your usual shtick, I might add. And I know you, Steven. I _know_ you. Somewhere in that mixed up mind of yours, you're taking what happened onto your own shoulders and that ain't gonna happen. I don't care about that mission, about the past. The kid's death's not on you. That was my bullet, and Kono's, lodged in his body. And it was his choice to break the law, and his choice to shoot you. It's that simple."

Steve didn't flinch, even though his stomach clenched in reaction to his partner's intensity. Danny's eyes were still closed, and he was sagging more into the couch, but the man grimaced anytime he tried to change positions. The silence between them crackled like electricity, both lost in their own thoughts, until Steve finally cleared his throat. He was done watching his brother's discomfort because of his past.

"Come here." Steve tapped Danny on the shoulder and then patted his thigh.

"Not that kind of guy, Steven."

"Shut up and lay down, before you fall over. It'll take the pressure off your ribs." His partner begrudgingly acquiesced with a nod, so Steve guided his friend down onto his side, the blonde's head finally resting on his leg.

"Fuck that hurts," Danny mumbled.

"Yeah, I bet it does." Steve rested his head back onto the couch again and blew out a long, slow breath. "We should call them."

"You can. I'm too tired."

"Think they'll figure it out?"

"Yep. And then they'll kill us. Better to just call them, babe. Take your licks over the phone. They'll have cooled off by the time they get here then."

"Good point."

H50

They'd both been quiet for several minutes now. A comfortable kind of silence while they waited for Chin and Kono to show up to chauffeur them home. There'd been the threat of bodily injury, or death, if they moved an inch off the couch, or so Kono had screamed through the line. Steve had needed to pull his phone away from his ear, shoving the cell towards his partner as if to say _"here, you take it"_, but his friend had only chuckled and fluttered his fingers at him, "_nope, you're doing fine, babe"_. He figured Danny had been out cold ever since, his partner's normally kinetic body pliably limp now.

Steve was still leaning back, his eyes closed, his hands resting on his partner's shoulders when the memories he'd shoved aside for all those years came floating back again. Gently at first, then more forcefully, until they put down roots and Steve couldn't fight them. Now that the hospital's drugs had worn off, he couldn't do anything but think, and obsess, and physically hurt. The pain in his side was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil brought about by the kid's presence though. But when he opened his mouth—thought he could let go—he snapped it shut again. Try as he might, knowing he had to, it took what seemed like forever of him trying, and then failing, and then trying again to get the words out. But then, without warning, the images paired with his voice and unspooled on him. And once Steve started to unravel, he just couldn't stop.

"I knew Jason—because of Blake—knew him most of his life, watched him grow up." Steve felt Danny startle, but kept going when his partner didn't object or try to get up. "Put up with his dad whipping out pictures every chance he got." Steve chuckled, forcing his eyes open to stare at the ceiling and his lips to turn up into a soft smile. "Man, he loved that kid. Couldn't shut up about him. Drove us all nuts. But Blake was hard core SEAL. Didn't want to get out, even though Rebecca begged him. Can't remember how many times she pleaded, cause you know, she hated the life, being the wife of a SEAL. Swore she never signed up for it. Said Blake never discussed it with her. Just showed up one day saying he volunteered for the SEAL program and he'd be back when he'd made it through training. I don't think she ever really forgave him for that."

Steve gazed down at the blond head in his lap. Before he could look back up at the ceiling though, his hands began to shake. He frowned, tried to stop them, but he couldn't. By now he was sure Danny was the only thing keeping him tethered to the present, so he pushed on, still staring at his anchor.

"I don't remember much, mostly just the noise and the chaos … and the echoes of Blake's screams." Steve bit his lip, feeling his body aching for sleep, but knowing that nightmares would swamp him, grisly and hellacious, if he didn't get this out. "Lots of blood. Mostly his. When I woke up the first time, I was still covered in it. Didn't remember why. Later, I found out that I'd had my hand buried in his leg trying to pinch off a bleeder. Guess that's why I remember the screams. I went down shortly after that, couldn't get back up. The rest of the team got us both out. But Blake never really had a chance. They said he knew it. That you could see it in his eyes."

Steve cleared his throat several times, the images still coming hard and fast. He pulled in a deep breath, ignoring the cutting pain in his side and tried to breathe through it. By the time he could continue he was unconsciously rolling the cotton of his partner's shirt between his thumb and his forefinger. And Danny was letting him.

"Jason had it wrong though … what he said out there today. They told me Blake was already gone by the time the chopper could pull us out. No one could've saved him." Steve's eyes went wide and wet at the admission. It was the first time he'd ever really been honest with himself about what happened to Blake. And he knew the acknowledgement was because of Danny. Only his brother would've been able to pull that out of him and make him believe it, just by his presence. Steve leaned his head back again, resting against the couch, his eyes closing.

"I went to visit Rebecca, after I'd gotten back to the States. She was a mess … and Jason … you could tell the kid was angry. Angry at the world, his mom, his dad … me. And yeah, you know, I felt guilty that I'd made it and Blake didn't. Thought I should've been able to save him, or that it should've been me, not him. He had Jase. So I stayed in touch every chance I got, till one day, she just up and left. Packed up Jason and split. No word, no nothing. Never heard from her again. Didn't try to find her, or look for them …"

It was Steve's turn to startle when Danny finally spoke, his voice gravely.

"She didn't want you to, babe. Didn't want you to find her."

Steve felt a hot, acidic rush in his throat, a constriction that forced his breath to wheeze between his lips. But he forced it all back down, because, for once, Danny had called Rebecca's move for what it was, though he was still loath to admit it.

"Yeah, I know. I think I only made it more painful for her, prolonging the contact. Just another reminder. But maybe… maybe for Jason …" The wheeze was back. Tears welling underneath his closed lids, threatening to leak out and tumble over.

"No, Steven, don't. It's not your fault. Not what happened to Blake, or Rebecca, or Jason. Not your burden to bear, babe. So let it lie."

Steve opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, a bit dazed and unsure of what to say. So he said what was true for both of them.

"Easier said than done, Danno."

"Yeah, I know that, too. But you do it anyway. Because life goes on, babe. And there's too many people here who need you to keep living it. Be their Super SEAL."

Another silence strung between them. Until Steve forced himself to remember that there, glowing like the stubborn embers of a fire, was his 'ohana's willingness to fight for one another. And that he had Danny; staunch, stalwart and steadfast. A true brother in every sense of the word. More so than those he had when he was a SEAL. So he scrambled for the next second and the next breath, felt something shameful and guilty loosen, and wither away. When the tears finally triumphed, were rolling down the sides of his temples and into his hair, he let them come, even though it was still hard to do so. And even though he was sweating and physically exhausted, and now just wanted to throw up at his show of emotions, his partner was right. His 'ohana needed him as much as he needed them. And life went on.

_"Figures. Right, twice in one day. Smug bastard."_

Steve looked down at his brother, the corners of his mouth turning up into a lopsided grin, the tears still trailing down his cheeks in a slow trickle before he could wipe them away.

"Thanks, Danny."

His partner patted his thigh.

"You're welcome. Just remember that you get to be my super hero as soon as Kalakaua walks through that door to kick our asses. I'm injured. I need you to protect me. Gracie will never forgive you if you don't."

Steve's grin widened. This was what he loved about his partner. As much as Danny could … would … bitch and moan and go on for hours about nothing, he knew when to let go of the important stuff. When he'd prodded just enough.

Another stretch of silence before Danny spoke again, his eyes still closed.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good, Danno."

"Glad to hear it. 'Bout time. But don't wake me when they get here."

Steve could just about see the smirk of satisfaction flit across all of Danny's face as he settled further into the couch.

"Not a chance, partner. We're in this together. You're getting up."

Danny raised his hand for a fist bump. Steve didn't hesitate.

"Okay. Together then, Steven."

"Yep, together."

**~the end~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Authors Note:_**_ "Try jumping, anorexic tarantula, Steven!" _

_So, Happy Birthday, fifilla! :) Yep, early once again. Go figure ;) Good vibes to the equally crazy beta's! Luv Ya!_

_Pohihihi – Not clearly understood._

_As ever … Enjoy!_

**Arachnophobia**

"Holy Crap. Steven?"

A chill ran down the length of Steve's spine at the sound of his partner's voice coming through the line. The grip on his coffee cup tightened.

"Danny, what's wrong?"

"First, let me just be clear, here. I'm not normally uneasy around spiders. At least, I don't consider myself a full-on arachnophobe. So I'm not usually upset about seeing them in the same way that I'm concerned about Grace dating, small spaces, or you driving my car. But, once a spider reaches a certain size, Steven, I become rationally concerned. My rule of thumb is, if a spider looks like it's big enough to kill a mammal—_any_ mammal—I become wisely disturbed by that fact. So when I look up and see, lurking above the men's rest room door, a spider that looks like it could kill a Clydesdale—not with venom, Steven—but by _strangling_ it, I'd say it's safe to say that certain private parts of my anatomy—that will yet go unnamed—have managed to retreat into my abdomen, and my heart has decided that maybe I don't really need it to beat for the next few minutes or so."

"Wait. What?"

"A spider, Steven. A really, big ass spider, waiting above the men's bathroom door to pounce!"

Steve smirked, but managed to swallow the snort that followed it.

"How big?"

"Big."

"_How _big, Daniel?"

"Like, I hate this pineapple infested hell-hole big, Steven."

Steve could imagine his partner tucking his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, demonstrating the beast's size by flinging out his arms, even though his friend knew he couldn't see it. He ran a hand across his face, stopping to cover his mouth to keep from laughing outright.

"My first instinct would be just to calmly exit and allow you to deploy a seek and destroy mission for said arachnid. Because I'm telling you Steven, if I saw one of these things in my home, I would just burn the house down and steamroll the ashes. This is a very large spider, and it's guarding the damn door like the character Smaug!"

"Like who…? Who the hell is Smaug, Danny?"

"J.R.R. Tolkien? Or better yet, Peter Jackson …? The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug or The Battle of the Five Armies …? Smaug, Steven. Reptilian head, red-golden scales, and piercing yellow-red eyes? '_I am fire, I am death.'?_"

Steve could just see his partner's rapid fire air quotes, likely realizing that he was doing it for no one in particular and not caring.

"Come on, Steven. **_Smaug_**! Smaug is guarding the men's bathroom in the freaking basement!"

"Uhm … Danny? Are you … do you want me to come rescue you?"

Just about the time Steve was sure Danny was ready to scream, '_No, I don't want you to come rescue me!'_, he yelped.

"What happened now, Daniel?"

"The big, hairy, long legged monstrosity just decided to join the party further by scurrying down the door and has stopped to investigate the nice, shiny, bar pull door handle. That's what happened."

"Danny? Just pick it up and move it …"

"Fantastic!"

Another visual of his partner's gestures becoming more animated and frenzied followed the exclamation. Steve was kind of enjoying this.

"There's a spider here the size of a Brachiosaurus, that, for all I know, is fatally venomous and could jump or fly or maybe do long division, and your advice to me is, _'yeah, just pick it up and move it off the door handle, Danno! I'm sure it's not poisonous!' _Seriously, Steven, that's the best you can do?"

Danny's voice was mimicking Steve's.

"Danny, it's probably just a cane …"

"Honestly, I don't care what it's called, Steven. It's enough that said spider is 1) huge, 2) hairy, 3) has fangs, 4) has eight flexible tree trunks for legs, and 5) is a freak of nature that is clinging to the door handle like an octopus guarding its den! And I don't care if its bite does nothing but simulate orgasm. I don't want it preventing me from leaving the men's bathroom, which, by the way, is beginning to close in on me. And furthermore, my opinion of its existence in said bathroom isn't gonna be affected by finding out what I'm supposed to call it!"

Steve choked, spitting a mouth full of coffee across a weeks' worth of paperwork.

"I'm just gonna shoot it."

He choked again, this time spilling hot coffee over his hand, the now half-empty mug shattering onto the floor when it slipped from his burnt fingers.

"Shit! No! Damn it, Danny. Wait. You're not gonna shoot it." Steve shook his hand and then realized that both Kono and Chin had noticed his outburst, unlike his partner.

"Yeah, well, as much as I would like to just let him—or her—go outside and live the rest of his … her … life as a giant spider, there is no guarantee that it won't come back. I'm shooting it."

Danny paused. Steve thought it was likely just so he could catch his breath before continuing.

"Wait, what's that white thing underneath it?"

"That's probably an egg sac, Danny. Which would make _it_ a her ca …"

"So the next time I open the men's bathroom door I should fully expect to be met by a million crawling, ginormous, octopus spiders?" Danny voice had raised an entire octave. "And you want me to **_just pick it up_**? What if the egg sac breaks open, Steven? What then?"

"It's not like it's a brown recluse, Danny." Steve realized his mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth.

"Oh, that's reassuring. Thanks. One bite from a brown recluse, which according to the inaccuracy of Google is essentially the only deadly spider in the world—and I would know this because of Grace's homework debacle last week on Arachnids—would be enough to land me a guest spot on Animal Planet's next episode of **_Scary Animals That Will Kill You_**, Steven!"

"Danny …"

"If you won't let me shoot it …"

Steve could hear the rustle of clothing and a grunt.

"… I'll just throw my shoe at it and then squish it."

"Uhm. Danny? I don't think …"

By now, Chin and Kono were standing in the doorway, perfectly positioned to hear Danny's high pitched shriek, followed by a clatter and more banging coming through the line. Steve pulled his cell away from his ear and grimaced, but was on the move, signaling his teammates 'come on'. A bellow of rage followed—that went on for far too long—and then they were jogging.

"So clearly you forgot to mention that this is an aerial creature. Try jumping, anorexic tarantula, Steven!"

Danny was shouting in between grunts, obviously the phone no longer held in his hand.

"And although my ankles might be safe, you failed to mention the thing would hiss and then hurl itself at my face! Speaking of which, had it actually landed on me, I wouldn't have stood a chance of surviving its attack, since its weight alone would have crushed me instantly!"

There was no point in Steve answering as all three teammates raced through the hallways and down the stairs into the basement. Why Danny was in the basement's restroom rather than their office's was a mystery to be solved at a later date. If the sounds over the phone were anything to go by, Danny may as well have been fighting off a perp high on PCP and ten times the miniature detectives designated weight class for wrestling.

As the team skittered around the corner, the door to the men's bathroom flew open and Danny stumbled out, his stocking feet sliding across the slick floors, his shirt untucked. He looked like a guy who had easily gone ten rounds with said perp … and lost.

"Danny?" Steve stopped just this side of barreling into his friend, his arm outstretched, but got his hand batted away instantly for his efforts.

"It's dead."

Danny ran his fingers through his hair, trying, unsuccessfully, to get the stray, sweaty locks out of his face. His body shuddered before he moved further away from the bathroom door, then stopped to pull off his socks, dropping them to the floor and continuing on without looking back at them.

"I killed it," he whispered.

"Uh. Danny, your socks?" Steve was still standing by them.

"Don't want 'em. They have the freak of nature's guts all over 'em." Danny kept walking.

"And your shoes?"

His friend gestured a 'whatever' over his shoulder.

"Nice scorched earth approach to pest control, second boss." Kono had picked up the striped socks by the cuffs, holding them out and twisting them back and forth in front of Steve.

"Bag em as evidence. Possible murder weapon." Steve smirked at her, then turned tail to follow his partner, Chin right behind him, chuckling.

"He does realize that cane spiders are essentially harmless—kind of like kittens with eight legs—and are all over the islands, right?" Kono had dumped the offensive socks in the closest trash can and was trailing behind all three men now. "When I was a kid, they'd burn the sugar cane fields and the spiders would come out in swarms. You know, big, hairy spiders throwing huge parties for everybody, with lots of confetti and cake and rum …"

"That's right, laugh it up rookie," Danny growled, never breaking stride. "But there's one less spider to add to the swarm now. And given the fact that this island hates me, and that the only mutant spiders I've ever encountered in New Jersey were the size of a quarter, I don't think it's unreasonable for me to be freaked out by a spider as big as George Washington's actual head ... in paradise … because where else would mutant ninja spiders live. And you should probably tape off that bathroom Steven, because whoever goes in there next to clean, or take a leak, should know ..."

Steve could tell his partner was trying damn hard to ignore the looks of amusement of passerby's as he plodded his way back to Five-0's offices barefoot, disheveled, and still ranting.

"Should we tell him that they like really dark car upholstery …?"

"Uhm … no, probably not, Kono. Now's probably not a good time to tell him that."

**~the end~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Authors Note:_**_ He'd no idea about his partner's penchant for hockey. At least not as a player. Fan yes, player no._

_Thanks has to go out to praemonitus praemunitus (why can't you have any easy avatar name to spell?) who helped me shove the story back on track, Wenwalke (the other queen of 'no, you need more there), avieryfriend ('cause when you whump them, then you have to fix them), and Jlopie (because she was desperate … no, I mean bored and stuck on a plane.)_

_Pohihihi – Not clearly understood._

_As ever … Enjoy!_

**Chapter 1**

"What the hell, ref, are you blind?" Kono stood up, throwing her arms into the air. She was furious. Danny had just been cross checked into the boards so violently that the crack of his helmet against the glass reverberated throughout the rink, the safety glass wobbling. "How could you miss that? Are you deaf as well?" Kono knew that intentional boarding or checking was considered a major penalty for in-line hockey. If the intent was to injure, it was a misconduct penalty and an automatic removal from the game.

The away team's forward had caught Danny mid-chest with his stick and physically heaved the blond, compact winger off his feet and into the boards before skating off to do damage elsewhere. Danny had crumpled. It wasn't the first illegal hit their detective had taken in the game thus far. The two teams were 14 minutes into the second 20 minute half and it seemed to Kono that as the clock ticked down, the aggression escalated. Likely because the referees were incompetent idiots. Even more so likely because the away team—the Blackjacks—were getting pummeled, score wise, and had nothing to lose at this point. But after the check, and no whistle to stop the play for a penalty, Kono was getting worried. Danny was slow to get up this time and it took way too long before he reengaged in the game.

"Kono, sit down. Screaming at them won't help." Chin pulled at her forearm. Danny was still shaking his head, as if to clear it. Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze off their teammate and sat when Chin tugged again. She glowered at her cousin, but she didn't miss his deepening frown when his attention returned to the rink.

"Chin, the refs aren't doing anything to stop this. Danny's one of them. At least _they _should be looking out for him if his teammates can't."

Kono felt she was thinking fairly rationally here. Not only was Danny playing in the D1 league, the most skilled and competitive division in KIHA Kapolei, he was also an assistant coach for the 14 and under youth division—Grace had started playing after Christmas —and a certified referee. He'd filled in a couple of times when a ref had backed out on a game and his schedule permitted it. So, protect your own, right? That had to be part of the ref code. It couldn't, or maybe shouldn't, just apply to law enforcement or the military. And after watching their mainlander play, Kono had to agree with Danny. Hockey was in his blood. A New Jersey Devils boy through and through.

"Chin …?" Kono hesitated. Her cousin's features had darkened and before she knew what was happening, he was on the move. "Shit!" She hurtled down the tiered row of aluminum benches two at a time, trying to catch up. She'd barely caught sight of Danny taking a high stick to the face not two minutes following the previous cross check. This time when he went down though, he didn't get up. And from the look she'd caught before Chin took off, her cousin was pissed.

As she jumped down the last set of bleacher seats, a whistle finally sounded. She was certain that the only reason there was the screech of blown air was because her friend was curled into a ball, still on his knees, forehead pressed into the surface of the rink with blood gushing through his fingers and interfering with further play. And to make matters worse, if that was even possible, the players from both teams were too busy posturing at each other, ready to fight, instead of helping him. So she was relieved that, by the time she'd hit rink level, Chin was up and over the players bench, through the opening in the half boards and sprinting across the surface before anyone could stop him.

"Let me see, Danny … let me see." Chin had dropped to all fours, ducking down to try to get a better look. Their detective's hands were covered in blood and shaking slightly, but her cousin managed to latch onto one of his wrists to pull it away. By that time, Kono had skidded to a stop just beside them.

"Need a towel, here," Chin barked out, glaring at the ref that had been hovering within his line of sight. The guy had the decency to nod and skate off with at least some urgency towards the player's bench. Chin placed his other hand behind Danny's head, still not letting go of his wrist, encouraging the blond to look at him. Her cousin grimaced when he caught sight of his friends face. "Looks like he got you good, Danny. Bloody nose and a gash across the bridge. Might need some stitches … don't think it's broken, but you're definitely gonna have a shiner, if not two. Sorry, brah."

Danny groaned at the word, 'stitches'. Kono leaned forward, hands on her knees just off Chin's shoulder.

"What can I do?"

"Get me some ice and another towel."

"Got it …" And she was off. By the time she'd gotten back, a white athletic towel was pressed against Danny's nose, blood seeping through the first fold and then the second when Chin halved the terry cloth again. She handed off the cold pack to her cousin and dropped the additional towels next to his knees.

"Can you sit up?" When Danny nodded and reached up, Chin grabbed at his elbow, not even flinching when streaks of smeared blood ended up along his forearm. "Keep the pressure steady, okay?" Danny nodded again, wobbling slightly once he'd gotten to his knees and sat back on his heels. His eyes were closed, automatic tears cutting down his cheeks, even with his chin slightly raised. When he went to tilt his head back further, Chin stopped him. "No, don't. You'll start swallowing blood and that'll make you nauseous, or worse, puke." When blood began dripping off of his chin, he leaned forward a bit. For the most part though, the flow seemed to be slowing. "Here, put this on top of the towel. Don't take pressure off or move it." Chin maneuvered Danny's hand to the cold pack and helped him place it on top of the folded towel. "Yeah, right there, Danny. Keep it right there. The cold should slow it down more."

Because Danny was forced to breathe through his mouth—the blood from his nose bubbling and spraying anytime air escaped through the clogged passages—he ended up spitting the excess blood into his hand. And every time he coughed, the amount of blood increased. Once Kono had brought the extra towels, Chin grabbed one for Danny to hawk into. The trickle down the back of his throat must have been driving him crazy. Kono could tell every time her teammate tried to hold back a reflexive cough. She knew how it felt to have a head injury and have that added explosive pressure. She didn't blame him for trying to hold it in, though it certainly was adding another layer of color to flush his features when he tried to hold back.

"Give it a minute and then we'll get you up." Chin folded up the towel their teammate had used to spit into and gave him another one.

Danny shook his head 'no', tapping his fingers on Chin's forearm and indicating with his thumb that he was ready. He wanted up.

"You sure?"

Danny nodded.

"Alright. Here we go, brah. Let us do the work."

H50

Between the three of them, Danny was able to make it out of the rink and towards the locker room. The bleeding had finally stopped and he'd managed to convince Chin and Kono that his injuries didn't necessitate a trip to Queens. He was sure his nose wasn't broken, the cut on the bridge wasn't that deep—though it had bled like a stuck pig—and although he'd likely look like a raccoon by tomorrow, he was fine. Even convinced them that he'd be able to make it home on his own once he'd showered, changed and cleaned up a bit. It had ultimately taken his reassurance that he'd call Kono once he got home before she'd agreed to leave. Chin had been a bit easier to convince, only demanding that Danny call him in the morning.

Most of his hockey teammates took off fairly quickly after the game's end. They'd checked in with him, still reveling in their win, but they wanted to get out of there to celebrate the slot they'd secured into the semi-finals. Friday night, semi-finals … bar. And although they'd asked him to join them, he'd turned them down flat. His head was pounding and all he wanted was to get home to sleep it off. He didn't have Grace this weekend and it looked like he'd need the time to recover before showing up for work Monday.

Danny groaned as he headed out of the locker room. Work on Monday. McGarrett. What the hell was he going to tell the man when he showed up on Monday? It's not like he'd be able to hide the bruising to his face. Not like Steve wouldn't notice. If Gracie hadn't accidentally let slip that he was coaching and a referee to Kono, none of his teammates would be aware that he was involved in hockey again. Steve already knew about Grace playing, but he'd no idea about his partner's penchant for hockey. At least not as a player. Fan yes, player no. Danny had kind of hoped to keep it that way for a bit longer. Get his legs under him, so to speak, before his perfect partner in everything athletic came out to watch him. Because as soon as Steve found out about the hockey, he'd be all over Danny to come to his games. And all over him to find out how long he'd been playing, why he'd stopped. If for no other reason than to give him grief about it.

Still lost in thought, he headed out to the parking lot. He'd assumed the visiting team was gone, the only folks really left in the building were the janitorial crew that locked up behind him. So as he hefted his equipment bag off his shoulder and into the trunk of the Camaro—still a bit thick headed from the pounding to his face—he missed the shuffle of boots from behind after he'd closed the lid and walked to the side of the car. Didn't register the hand placed on the back of his head until his face was bounced off the driver's side door frame, not once, but twice. Didn't feel his keys drop out of his hand or hear them tumble under the chassis. Didn't care. Had no clue when his instincts kicked in and he swung, connected, and then covered his head with his arms as he felt his body tilt and go boneless from retaliation. Didn't feel it when he hit the blacktop.

He knew his nose was broken now, his face covered in blood, but couldn't do a damn thing about it. Couldn't move to get away when he felt the crack of the first rib break, or the second. Lost count after the third. Felt something tear through his throat at the snap of his ankle, the pop of his knee. And then wasn't sure when it all ended … until there was silence. Well, almost silence. Because next he heard grunting. Heard the scrape of his body being dragged across the asphalt and into the dirt. Felt the ground shift, his body suspended, his arms and legs dangling. Then someone moaning. Him. Maybe those sounds _were_ just in his head though. Were just his imagination; the rattle of his breath, the snap of vegetation underneath heavy footfalls and the pounding between his ears. Maybe his eyelids weren't squeezed shut, unwilling to open. Unable to. Because in reality, they were swelling and he would've had to fight too hard to get them to unseal. And maybe, just maybe, his body falling didn't make his world blink when it stopped.

He had no idea how long he lay there, his body trembling, waiting for the next blow to come ... that never came. No idea when he figured out he was so cold he had to clamp his teeth together to keep them from chattering. When he realized his attacker was gone and he needed help. When the first person he thought of was his partner.

"Steve …" The sound bubbled wet between his lips.

It took hours … maybe minutes … could have been seconds, before he remembered and then managed to slide the phone out from his front pocket without moving anything but his arm and swollen fingers. Hours … maybe just minutes, before he realized it had slipped through his hand unintentionally. Before his fingers fell upon it again, flipping it over to face up. More time before he willed his eyelids to crack open and focus enough to make out where the slide to unlock was. Took almost too much effort, too much concentration, to find the wavering image of the phone, favorites, and then McGarrett through the slit between his lashes. A couple tries to stop his swollen, disembodied finger from shaking long enough to tap close to the number for the call to go through. And everything he had not to pass out before he heard the word …

"McGarrett."

And could answer it with a croaked …

"Stee …" before his world blinked again, and stayed that way.

**~to be continued~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Authors Note:_**_ As ever … Enjoy!_

**Chapter 2**

Steve pulled the cell away from his ear to make certain.

"Shit." Danny's name still appeared at the top of the screen with the time stamp underneath. Seven seconds had passed. He crammed the phone back against his ear. "Danny? Danny, what's wrong?" He could hear his partner struggling to breathe. "Danny, where are you? Are you at home?" He'd already grabbed his keys, shoved his feet back into his boots, unlaced, and was scrambling out the door, slamming it behind him. His own breath was coming fast and hard as he jogged towards the Silverado, laces whipping against his pant legs and dragging through the dirt. Still trying to block out all the ambient noise, he waited for a response. Nothing. His throat tightened as he slid onto the seat of the truck, hit speaker and thumbed a quick message to Chin to meet him at Danny's, Kono too. He even managed to get the key in the ignition and turn it over, though his hands were shaking so hard he looked like a junkie desperate for a fix. "Okay, Danny. I'm on my way. Just hang on … hang on, buddy …"

The rattle of his partner's breathing filled the cab. He set his phone on the console of his truck, careful not to disconnect the call and then ran his free hand through his hair as the Silverado barreled down the H1. Danny's breathing sounded as if he'd been water boarded. The hair on the back of Steve's neck stood on end as his imagination of what was happening now paired with the unwelcome memories of the past, so he shoved them aside.

"Almost there, Danno, hang on. Almost there …" Nonsensical words, that he couldn't keep track of, spilled from his lips then, followed by pleading, a growl of anger, and shouts of frustration at everyone still on the road at this hour of the night. When he finally turned onto Danny's street, he was ready to run over the next thing that got in his way and not feel a damn bit sorry for it.

He leaned forward, peering out the windshield, his knuckles turning white from the death grip he had on the steering wheel as he got closer. The Camaro wasn't there. He slammed his foot onto the brake, almost standing on it, and shoved the automatic gear shift into park, fuming. He popped the door open, giving himself enough room to finally tie his boot laces so he could check the house anyway.

_"Where the hell are you?"_

"Danny, where …" The ring tone of Chin's incoming call interrupted him. He added the line so he could still keep track of his partner's, but he never gave his teammate the chance to get in a greeting. "He's not here! Where the hell is he, Chin?" The question was rhetorical. Chin wasn't Danny keeper any more than Steve was.

"What happened?"

"Danny called me, but he's not responding now. I can hear his breathing. Barely. He sounds like shit. But I don't know where the hell he is!"

"Hang, on. I picked up Kono. She's pulling up GPS."

Steve could hear the murmur of Kono's voice and then Chin swearing before he added...

"He's still at the rink."

"What? What the hell's he doing at the rink? Gracie didn't have a game tonight. Why ..." The questions were rapid fired. Chin seemed to ignore the anger and confusion behind them, cutting him off.

"Meet us at KIHA. You remember how to get there?"

"Yeah, but why's Danny at the rink?" He'd already closed the cab door, thrown the truck back into gear and was heading that way. It was thirty minutes to Kapolei without sirens.

"We can talk about it later, Steve. Just go. We're not far behind you." He heard Chin hesitate and another mumbled question from their teammate. "Kono asking about EMS."

He'd no idea what was happening or what they'd find when they got there. But his partner sounded bad and he'd rather get his ass chewed for swatting than be sorry that he'd waited.

"Do it. HPD, too. They'll get there sooner than we can. Make sure they know they're looking for a black Camaro. I don't think he's inside, Chin. The sounds are all wrong for being indoors. And have them contact me as soon as they find him. Let them know I've got a line open to him still. Give HPD your line as well. I want them contacting you before they touch anything."

"Got it. We'll see you there." He let Chin disconnect the call. He'd kept the sirens off up until now so he could hear Danny better. Not anymore. He punched the button. Getting there faster was more important.

"Hang on, Danny. Just hang on ..."

H50

It was ten grueling minutes of listening to nothing but his partner struggling to breathe, his vehicle's announcement to get out of the way, and the sound of rubber against asphalt before Steve finally heard them. Distant sirens. Then nothing. The wail of help arriving had been cut, which wasn't unexpected when the emergency vehicles, either HPD or the ambulance, had likely pulled into the 182 stall parking lot. KIHA's complex was massive in comparison to some of the other buildings within the isolated commercial district. The concrete footprint of the two inline rinks alone was 42,000 square feet, the land it sat on 128,000 square feet, all of which backed up to hundreds of acres of abandoned agricultural ground. So as emergency services searched through the parking lot for the Camaro, Steve expected some silence before they located his partner. When the quiet extended into minutes though, he frowned, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel with impatience.

"Come on, come on. Where are you?"

Still nothing.

He was another ten minutes out—less if he pushed the engine harder—from where Danny was. They'd gotten the right location. He'd heard them arrive. So what the hell was taking them so long to get to his partner? He should be right there … somewhere.

Chin's incoming call broke through the oppressive silence in the cab, outside of the racked breathing still filling it. He added the call again, still maintaining Danny's line. As far as he could tell, his partner was holding his own … for now.

"What the hell's happening?" This wasn't the first time Steve appreciated his teammate's unflappability when it came to his tendency towards the abrupt.

"They found the Camaro. Danny's not there …"

"No! He's there, Chin. I heard them arrive. He's there."

"He's not at the Camaro, Steve. The doors were unlocked and they've located the keys underneath it. I've got Kono calling in Charlie." Chin hesitated. He could hear Kono speaking on her own cell. "There's blood, Steve. On the driver's side door and the ground. HPD's starting to fan out and they've called in Search and Rescue."

"The ag fields behind KIHA?"

"Yeah, more than likely."

"He can't be too far off, Chin."

"Let's hope not. How far out are you?"

"Another six or seven minutes."

"Alright, we're about double that. We'll find him, Steve."

"Yeah, okay. See you there." This time it was Steve who cut the call, his mind racing. "Hang in there, Danno. Almost there …"

He was still listening for either emergency services or some change in his partner's awareness when he exited the H1 onto Hwy 95 heading south. KIHA was 7.2 miles from the H1. Steve made it there in less than five minutes. The Silverado took the turn into the parking lot hard, tires squealing, the knock from the undercarriage audible when the truck jumped the gutter onto the ramped entrance. Steve headed to the far west end where HPD still had their lights flashing, the blue and red eerily bouncing off the nearby warehouses. Floodlights were also bathing the blacktop in silver. Another screech, tires burning rubber into a skidded halt, and he grabbed his phone off the console before throwing the driver's side door open and not bothering to close it. He never heard the repetitive ding, ding, ding for the key left in the ignition after he'd cut the engine. He was too intent on sprinting towards the closest officer that looked even remotely like they knew what was going on.

"What've you got? Who's in charge?"

The officer, his name stitched over his right front pocket—one Steve had never heard before—took a step forward, his hands raised as if to ward him off.

"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-0. That's my partner's vehicle, Detective Danny Williams. Who's in charge? I wanna know if you've located my partner." Steve was in the man's face so fast, the guy was forced to take a step back or they'd be touching noses.

"The Sergeant's over there, Sir." The officer pointed to a police rig, a halo of floodlights surrounding it, and a map spread over the hood with other officers hovering around it. At the sound of his title, the Sergeant looked up and walked over to meet Steve half way.

"Sergeant—Awakuni." Steve had ducked slightly to get the name off the uniform, and then stuck out his hand.

"Commander." Steve raised his eyebrows. "Lieutenant Kelly let me know you'd be the first to arrive." The sergeant grasped his proffered hand and then began walking back towards the squad car. Steve glanced over his shoulder for a brief look at the Camaro, also bathed in flood lights, and then turned his attention back on the man who'd already begun speaking.

"I've contacted S&amp;R for a couple of area search dog teams, but they'll likely not show up for at least an hour, maybe more. HPD tracking canines have about the same ETA."

Once they'd reached the front of the rig, the map splayed across it gave Steve a better idea of the area that had to be covered. He set his cell on the hood beside him, still on speaker.

"I've already got officers grid searching here and here. Those areas are the easiest to get to on foot, and if your man's injured …" The Sergeant's voice trailed off as he indicated the cell with a lift of his chin, the sound of Danny's rattled breaths still coming through the line. Then he pointed to the yellow highlights to the south-west of the Camaro, not waiting for Steve to confirm his statement. "We can at least knock out some acreage before the dogs get here."

"What about this area over …?" Steve stopped to look up at the sound of another siren coming closer before it was shut down. Chin and Kono were piling out of their rig and heading over as soon as they saw him.

"It's harder to reach on foot, thicker vegetation, but we've got enough officers with the arrival of your team to cover more ground. So yeah, I can get that organized."

"Alright. Work on it while my team and I look over the Camaro." The Sergeant nodded, barking off commands to the officers still within ear shot. Steve signaled to his teammates to follow him before Chin or Kono had even gotten to the patrol car. He'd already picked up his cell. When they'd pulled up alongside him, he handed the phone to Kono.

"I'm still connected to Danny. I'm on speaker. Talk to him. See if you can get him to respond to your voice, alright? Listen for anything that might help us figure out where he is. Take it off speaker if you have to."

"Yeah, sure Boss."

Kono strode to the edge of the parking lot where the fields began, bringing the phone to her ear. One hand cupped her other ear, her head bowed in concentration, her voice a soothing murmur. Chin was already bending down by the Camaro's driver's side door when Steve joined him. He stood up, looking out to the west, just past the hood of the car.

"You said you could hear the sirens arrive, right?"

Steve nodded, joining Chin as he moved to the edge of the blacktop, studying the ground around them with his flashlight.

"If Danny was taken from here, wasn't put in a vehicle and dropped somewhere nearby, we might be able to track him before the dogs get here. No one's spotted any signs of entrance into the fields directly in front of the Camaro, but what if they took him through that parking lot?" Chin pointed with his light to the adjacent lot, another behemoth that was the same size or bigger than the rink's. "KIHA keeps the vegetation cut back as a fire break, so it's harder to pick up a trail. They don't. Might be easier."

"Start checking it out. I'll let Kono know. I want her to stay with Danny and coordinate with EMTs once we find him." Steve's long strides ate up the blacktop back to Kono. She startled when he placed his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. The liquid brown eyes, that turned to face him, forced him to swallow several times before he could get the words out.

"Anything?"

"No." Her voice cracked on the single syllable.

"Keep on it. Keep trying. We're …"

"Steve!"

Chin's shout whipped Steve around. The Hawaiian was studying the ground in front of the adjacent parking lot, waving him over at the same time. There was just enough light from the floods to still see him. Steve spun back to Kono, pointing at her as he began backpedaling.

"Stay with him. Let him know we're on our way."

She nodded, her eyes welling as her hand went back to covering the ear not pressed against the phone. Steve turned and sprinted back towards Chin, skidding to a halt, almost barreling into the man when his teammate unexpectedly stood and began to disappear into the eight to ten foot mature field of abandoned sugar cane.

"What …"

"Come on. I think I've got him. Look …" Blood had been smeared sporadically along the broken cane stalks and crumpled tassels that created a narrow path they could enter. "Someone pushed through here."

"Go! Go, go, go." Steve patted his teammate on the shoulder, almost shoving him forward in his haste.

"Danny!" Every few minutes Steve called out as they weaved through the maze of abandoned ground, knowing damn well he wouldn't get an answer, but not able to stop himself. By now, the flood lights were no longer useful. They were already too far into the field, several minutes from the parking lot. "Danny!" This time it was Kono's ring tone on Chin's phone that cut through the silence.

"Kono?"

"I can hear Steve. Through the open line with Danny, Chin. I can hear him."

Chin spun around to face Steve.

"Keep calling out. Kono says she can hear you. We're getting closer."

His teammate turned back around and picked up the pace, Steve's holler becoming more frantic. More minutes passed until their eyes fell upon the bloodied, crumpled heap of his partner, tucked underneath the shimmer of silvery tassels.

"Jesus. Danny," Chin whispered, the first to see him.

The Hawaiian stood stock still, the beam of his flashlight wavering before Steve pushed past him, turning Chin sideways. The SEAL was down on his knees, sugar cane stalks rolling under his hands as he pressed his chest onto the ground, his head turned slightly towards his friend. His fingertips gently traced Danny's cheek while he gathered the courage to check his friend's carotid for the strength of his pulse. There was no mistaking the slow, rattled breathing that he'd heard for what seemed like eternity. Their detective, thank God, was still fighting.

"Danno. Hey, we're here." Steve pushed up to his knees, looking around his partner's body until he found what he'd been searching for. His friend's phone. He picked it up, reaching out towards Chin to hand it to him, not taking his eyes off Danny. "Have Kono get EMS started this way. Make sure they know the distance in here and the limited space to work in. I want them hoofing it." Once the phone disappeared from his hand, he was all Danny's.

It was the brutality etched across his partner's face that brought Steve's feelings of retribution hotly to the surface, made him want to retch, or scream, or punch something … no, someone. Maybe kill them. Danny's eyelids were swollen shut and already blackening. His nose was split across the top and looked displaced, likely fractured. Blood was smeared across his cheek, spattered throughout his tangled hair, and from what Steve could tell, had dripped down his neck until the collar and chest of his white t-shirt was soaked and clotted with it. With all the streaks and smudges marring his partner's features, or at least what he could see of them, it was hard for Steve to differentiate all the damage done. But he'd seen enough, heard enough, to know that Danny had taken a beating. When Steve went to rest a palm onto his partner's back, he felt a rib shift from the pressure.

"Sorry. God, sorry, buddy." Steve's hand hovered then, his chin resting against his chest, his gaze locked on his fingers, because he was afraid to touch his friend, anywhere. "Just hang on a bit longer, Danny. Help's coming …" More apologies and reassurances fell upon the dried and decimated tassels littering the ground. He knew the only moisture that had leaked into the abandoned field from that night had come from his partner. And he raged inside because of it.

Lost in his own thoughts, he'd been unaware that the drone of Chin's voice had finally stopped. The stalks beneath Steve's knees shifted when his teammate dropped down on the other side of him.

"What the hell did he do to him?" Chin reached out to touch Danny's fingers. "Steve, he's freezing."

The SEAL growled in self-castigation, ripping off his outer shirt. He'd been so caught up in his own emotions that he wasn't paying attention to what his partner needed. The measly cotton button down was all he had to keep Danny warm, though. Their sole focus had been on finding him, so they hadn't brought any medical supplies with them. It would take the EMTs longer to get in, too—having to hump their equipment—so his friend couldn't afford them to botch his basic care. Especially something as simple as keeping him warm.

_"Come on, McGarrett, pull it together."_

Another second of making sure his long sleeved shirt was covering as much of his partner as possible and Steve carefully trailed his hands down his friend's torso, only pulling his fingers away when he got to Danny's knee and then ankle.

"Busted?" Chin had been watching him.

"Ankle's either busted or dislocated. I don't know about his knee. Couple ribs broken, his nose …"

"Steve, Danny did _not_ look this bad after his game this evening."

The SEAL frowned as he looked up, moving a hand to rest gently on Danny's shoulder, about the only place that seemed safe to touch. Without knowing it, Steve's thumb began rubbing back and forth across the shirt when he hesitated, trying to wrap his brain around the brief conversations he'd had with Chin since Danny had called him.

"He didn't look this bad … What game, Chin? Danny doesn't play …" Steve shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait. Chin, he? You know who did this?" Steve's hand clenched onto his partner's bloody tee, an automatic reaction when he zeroed in on what was most important, even if all the conversations hadn't clicked into place yet.

Chin raised his hands, palms facing Steve as he shook his head 'no'.

"I didn't say that. Look, all I know for sure is that one of the players of the other team was going after Danny pretty hard tonight. More so than usual. And when Kono and I left, all Danny had was a bloody nose and a cut across the bridge of it. That's it. He hadn't been worked over like this. We never would have left him if he had."

"You left him …"

"Steve …"

"Wait." Steve held up a hand to stop his friend. He had to take a minute to gather his thoughts. "This is the first that I've heard about Danny playing hockey. And now you're saying that you and Kono watched him play, that he'd been injured, and then he got … what? Jumped after he left?" Steve shook his head again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand, letting out a breath. "Look, I was out of line, Chin. This isn't your or Kono's fault. Just … I didn't know Danny was playing hockey."

"He was planning on telling you. He wanted to get a couple of games under his belt …"

Steve waved him off. "It doesn't matter." Chin frowned at him, but he kept going. "That's not what's important right now. You think it's the same guy from the game?"

"It's a place to start."

"Okay." Steve slid his fingers underneath the palm of Danny's right hand, lifting it slightly.  
"Did you see the bruises on Danny's knuckles here? Looks like he might have thrown a punch. Was there a fight during the game?"

Chin leaned over Danny's body to look and shook his head before he leaned back.

"No. Those weren't there earlier."

"Alright. When the EMTs get here, let's make sure we protect this hand, see if any of this blood belongs to someone else besides Danny." Still afraid to move his friend while he was holding his own, Steve bent over placing himself inches from Danny's motionless face. He was getting anxious to get his partner out of there. "Chin, call Kono. See how much longer." He didn't bother to look at his teammate, or listen in on the conversation. He knew Chin was on it. Danny meant as much to the cousins as he meant to Steve.

"A few more minutes. No more, Steve."

He nodded, stroking his fingers gently across his partner's forehead to just past his temple.

"Hey, Danny. Hold on just a little bit longer. Helps almost here."

"Steve …"

Chin had hesitated until Steve turned his head to look up at him, though the SEAL never moved away from Danny.

"This is more than just some poor loser looking to make a point. It takes a lot of rage for a beat down like this."

"Yeah, I know …" Steve's hand trailed to the nape of his partner's neck before he lightly squeezed there. A couple more minutes passed with both men lost in thought. Steve broke the silence with a thoughtful chuff.

"Hockey, huh. He any good?" The love of a brother and a knowing pride were wrapped around the words.

"Better than." Chin's lips turned upwards slightly as he placed his hand on Danny's bicep.

"Good, I hope he kicked the other team's ass, then."

**~to be continued~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Authors Note:_**_ I should mention that there are three—maybe four—DWOCD forum prompts within these last two chapters. I've actually lost count. Thanks to Irene Claire and Trishy Fishy for providing them! Praemonitus praemunitus, Wenwalke, and avieryfriend … you're all brilliant. Thank You! _

_Pohihihi – Not clearly understood._

_As ever … Enjoy!_

**Chapter 3**

It had taken a week before Danny didn't jump at every unannounced visit, every touch, the swelling having gone down around his eyes finally allowing his eyelids to open. Steve had actually lost track of how many times he'd been forced to pry his partner's tightly clenched fists out of the bed sheets, replacing them with his own calloused hand. Lost track of the times he'd leapt to his feet when his friend was struggling to wrestle out of recurrent nightmares. Or the times he'd crawled behind Danny to support his friend's weakened body against his own, after sitting or pre-op rehab had completely wiped him out. He'd forgotten that at least twice in just the last week he'd pulled Danny into his chest, only to rest his chin on top of his partner's tousled hair to ease his own trepidations. He'd close his eyes then, after each struggle, but not before a sudden roaring filled his ears and the taste of salt bitterness fell wet upon his lips. Because the killing rage that had come upon him over the beating of his partner, had nothing to do with the anger of a battle hardened SEAL, but contained a fierceness that demanded justice and, if he was honest with himself, the exacting of revenge.

Chin and Kono had pulled in the guy from the rink while Steve had stood guard over his partner, had demanded access to Danny twenty-four seven after they'd determined that the Blackjacks' forward wasn't their teammate's attacker. The blood spatter across Danny's knuckles had left no question of the player's innocence. Which meant that Five-0 had nothing. No suspects, no leads. All the databases at their disposal were essentially useless. Whoever it was hadn't shown up in any law enforcement system. So Steve had stood guard, an 'in your face' watchdog until Danny was on his feet again, well almost, and ready for discharge.

"This isn't home, Steven."

Steve jumped, his partner's voice catching him by surprise. He'd thought Danny was still knocked out from the drive from the hospital. Instead, his friend was gingerly raking a hand through his hair, his voice raw and still sleepy.

"It is 'till you ditch those crutches, pal." Steve killed the engine and piled out of the truck to head over to the passenger side. Danny already had a verbal head of steam going by the time the door had popped open.

"Ughh …That's not for eight weeks, Steve."

The surgery for Danny's dislocated ankle—same leg as his bum knee—limited his current movement to isometrics inside the fracture boot for four to six weeks and touchdown weight bearing only. It would be six to eight weeks before Danny could start 'weight-bearing as tolerated' and progressively wean off the use of his crutches and boot into an AirCast Stirrup.

"Doctor's orders, babe. And I quote, 'First one to four weeks avoid unnecessary walking or standing to control swelling. Ice the ankle and foot—using the ankle Cryocuff —3-5 times per day and elevate the leg above the heart as much as possible to control inflammation.'" Steve smirked because he'd put every word to memory. As soon as he'd heard the doc's instructions, the move to his house had been decided. At least in his own mind.

"Of course you paid attention to that. Nothing else anyone says sticks, but give you the ammo to imprison me in Casa McGitmo and you run with it." Danny was panting and grunting with pain by the time they got to Steve's front door. "Hang on …"

His partner shoved a crutch up against the side of the house, not paying attention to see if the stupid thing stayed upright, because he was already hunched over and growling before more words could come out.

"Jesus, that shouldn't hurt so much."

Steve had grabbed the discarded device to keep it from clocking his friend on the head.

"Yeah, it should. You were beaten, Danny. Take your time. No rush." He'd already unlocked the door and was supporting his friend by the elbow when he viciously chucked the crutch through the threshold, not caring where it landed. The use of crutches, with busted ribs, bordered on torture in his book. So did beating a man for no reason.

"Circling back around are we?" Danny patted him on the chest after he managed to straighten up, his next step a bit less wobbly with one crutch and the support of Steve. "Let it go, buddy."

It was Steve's turn to growl, the vibrations coming from deep within the back of his throat. He shook his head, 'no'.

"I can't, Danny. You know that."

Their detective's busted nose had to be surgically fixed, the displaced pieces pushed back together, his nose packed and then splinted. His ribs hadn't required surgery, but his partner was all kinds of psychedelic. The freshly kicked red of bruising had morphed into uncomfortable blues and purples, faint outlines of yellow and a sickly _almost_ green. So his friend's body and face was now a multicolored canvas. At first, it had been hard for Steve to even look at him without his own vision smoldering to red.

His partner hadn't been lucky enough to dodge ACL reconstruction either, so he'd been sent home with a knee Cryocuff, CPM Unit, DonJoy IROM brace, home exercise program—emphasis on full extension as soon as possible—and recurrent, intensive, Hell Week style rehabilitation, compliments of Danny's physical therapist and the ever present Steve. The goal was to prevent early arthrofibrosis and restore full strength and function. Were it not for the long, tough recovery for his ankle though, he could have ditched the crutches earlier. And both men knew it.

"Look, I can't stay here forever. Whether you catch the guy—or whoever did this or not. I've gotta go home eventually."

Steve had been on edge since the docs had given a time frame for discharge and would allow his friend to continue his rehab as an outpatient. They were no closer to finding the attacker and at least while their recovering detective was limited to the hospital, it was easy to keep track of him. Now that Danny was out, as much as life needed to move forward, Steve needed to keep, well, everything related to his partner's safety controlled.

Danny grunted as he lowered onto the couch, Steve still hovering. He couldn't help it. Couldn't help the sudden anger welling up either.

"It's not like my asking you to stay here, is me, forcing you, to become a pedophile, Danny …"

His blond teammate quirked an eyebrow at him, likely stopping himself just this side of snorting. Steve ran his hands across his face and up through his hair, blowing out a breath.

"Okay. Sorry. For some reason that sounded a lot better in my head as the beginning of a reasonable argument." Steve plopped down beside his friend, careful not to jostle him too much. Danny did snort at him this time, leaning his head back onto the couch and squinting sideways to look at him. Steve signaled his partner to turn to lie down, grabbing a pillow off the end of the couch so he could prop up his leg.

"You wanna try that again, Steven?"

"Christ, Danny. You're so not easy."

Danny barked out a laugh this time and then groaned, wrapping his arms around his chest while he tried to breathe through the pain he was causing to his ribs.

"Crap, buddy. Sorry …" Steve grabbed another pillow for Danny to curl up into.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you're trying to put me back in the hospital. No more making the injured man laugh, you jerk."

Danny had finally caught his breath and was now glaring at him, kind of. Steve raised his hands in defeat, trying to stick to the safer topic before their conversation went sideways.

"Look, I won't ask you to stay longer, Danny, alright? Just, give your body some time to heal. Doc says you're gonna need help and we need more time to find whoever did this."

"He … they … shit, it could be a _she_ for all we know, aren't gonna come after me again, Steven." Danny dropped the pillow he'd been using to support his ribcage onto the floor.

"You don't know that."

"As much as I'm usually the glass half-empty kind of guy, I can't live my life looking over my shoulder, Steve."

"I know that, I do. Just give us a few more weeks. That's all I'm asking. You've got six to eight weeks before you can put any weight on that leg. Six to eight weeks, that's it. If we haven't got 'em locked up by then …"

"I'm holding you to that, babe."

"I know you will. I won't make you stay longer, Danno. I swear."

H50

Steve ground his teeth. He was going to be forced to eat his promise to his partner, he was sure of it, and he was no closer to finding out why. His fingers tightened around Danny's biceps as he pushed back on his friend gently. The man needed to sit before he crumbled to the blacktop.

"Slow it down, Danny." His friend was starting to sound like a freight train. Steve knelt in front of him, ducking down to get a better look after depositing him on the running boards of the Silverado. Both Chin and Kono had caught on quickly, before they'd even turned onto Opakapaka Street in fact, so they'd been able to get Grace into the rink before her dad came completely unraveled at the seams.

"Danny, deep breaths. What's the matter?"

Steve had noticed his partner's fidget increase the closer they'd gotten to KIHA. By the time he'd turned off the H1, Danny was trembling. He'd placed his hand on his partner's forearm when he saw his friend force down a low grumble of distress, a losing battle to keep the sounds from escaping. His partner was just past the six week mark in his rehab. Danny had been pushing hard, making great progress. So getting out of the 'McGarrett complex of torture', as Danny liked to call it, to watch Grace play, was a treat. But, it was turning out that worrying about getting Danny healthy enough to go home wasn't going to be the only issue. Within his partner's glass half-empty kind of world, getting him back to the rink was. Hell, just through the parking lot, it seemed, was going to be a problem.

Steve scooted in closer, balancing on the balls of his feet and avoiding his friends outstretched leg while he placed both hands back on Danny's forearms. And then familiarity clicked in. The clammy sweat, the full body shaking, the look of choking fear across his friend's face. Steve hadn't expected a panic attack, or a flashback, or whatever the hell this was from his partner. And he should have. He knew better.

_"Damn it." _

"Okay, Danny. Where's that mind of yours at? Can you tell me?"

Danny shook his head, 'no'. They'd walked Danny through the attack weeks before, when he'd given his statement. But because their teammate had been caught from behind, Danny never saw the attacker's face or any other distinguishing feature. But his body would remember his physical response, whether he wanted it to or not.

Steve caught the blown pupils before his friend slammed his eyelids closed, his body almost tilting off the running board. Danny pulled an arm out of Steve grasp then, running the knuckles of his fist up and down his sternum, pressing hard. A low, visceral growl that kept getting stuck and then unstuck in the back of Danny's throat, clued Steve in that he was fighting back whatever was going on in his head. When Steve squeezed the forearm still in his grasp, Danny winced, as if he'd been struck.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey. It's just me, Danno. You hear me? Just Steve."

Danny nodded, but didn't open his eyes. If anything, the growl grew a notch louder, more distressed, like Danny was losing whatever battle he was fighting. Steve knew that panic attacks normally peaked within ten minutes. That most attacks ended within twenty to thirty minutes, rarely lasting more than an hour. Only seven or eight minutes in now, Steve didn't think Danny's body could sustain a full blown attack for that length of time. So, unsure of how to help, or what exactly his friend was experiencing behind those closed lids, Steve focused on keeping his partner from hyperventilating.

He grasped Danny fist, the one still rubbing furiously up and down his chest, stopping the movement. His partner only fought him for a minute, before his friend's hand finally opened and intertwined with Steve's searching fingers.

"Listen to me. Listen to my voice, Danno. In and out, nice and slow. Slow your breathing down." Steve reset the frantic movement from sternum to collar bone into a steady cadence for his partner to follow. He made breathing an act of determination, forcing his friend to fight off his body's need to gasp. "Good. That's it, Danny. You're doing good."

Danny's low growl still set a chaotic rhythm of starting and then stopping. Only his intermittent chokes or coughs interrupted the sound. Tears had also begun leaking from under his closed lids. If Steve were to guess, they seemed to be tears of frustration, because you could've bounced a quarter off of any one of Danny's clenched muscles at that point.

"Hey. Danny. Open your eyes. Come on, open 'em up."

Steve kept up the cadence on Danny's chest, but dropped his other hand to the top of his friend's quad. He glanced at his watch. They were twenty minutes in now and his partner's body looked absolutely wrecked from the added strain. Leave it to his brother though, to get his eyelids to open to mere slits, and only because Steve had asked him to. The pain within the blue depths poured over Steve as his friend managed to drop a hand on top of the one laying on his leg. He grabbed it, his smile still clouded with concern.

"There you are. Quit scaring the shit outta me, man. Any better?"

Danny licked his lips, his face ashen and slick with sweat. Steve noticed it took his friend several tries before he could get his voice to work past the sporadic growl, but his breathing had at least evened out more.

"Yep. Fine." But Danny's eyes made his voice a liar. Steve could tell that his partner was having a hard time settling his gaze just on him. His blown pupils kept flitting behind Steve to the entrance of KIHA.

"Just focus on me, Danny. You don't have to go any further than right here, babe. Small steps."

Steve checked his watch again. He might be able to get his partner inside with a little help, but he wasn't sure that he should even try.

"Maybe this is far enough, buddy. I can take you home, get Chin to go with us so he can come back to pick up the girls after the game."

"No. Grace …?"

"Chin and Kono went inside with her. She's fine, Danny. Probably worried about you, but she didn't see much. You didn't scare her."

Danny was able to get in a deep breath then, the growl finally disappearing all together.

"Wanna watch. Better. Need a minute. Just tired, okay?" Danny leaned forward, resting his head against a forehead he must have known would always be there. "Please."

Steve grabbed the back of Danny's neck and squeezed. Closed his own eyes, made the nerves doing calisthenics within his system knock it off. He breathed in through his nose, let it out through his mouth and nodded slightly.

"Alright, take a few more minutes. Actually, make that all the time you need, buddy." Steve wasn't sure who needed more time to recover, him or Danny. His friend had knocked the SEAL's ordered world around a bit. He could use a few more minutes to gain his own equilibrium.

Steve lost track of how much time passed before his partner tapped him on the cheek, then reached down to grab his bicep. Danny was ready.

"I'll get Chin out here to help us." A final squeeze to the nape of Danny neck and Steve leaned back, then stood up to pull out his cell. He noticed that he'd gotten a text from the Hawaiian a couple minutes earlier asking if Danny was okay, if he needed help. Steve figured he probably didn't even need to answer him, he'd likely show up if he didn't get a reply, but Steve sent off a quick text asking him to come out anyway. He'd no idea what it would take to get Danny inside. If his partner could even make it without some kind of trigger setting him off. So he kneeled back down, made sure he had his friend's attention before making his point.

"Here's the deal, Danny, for going inside. Any sign that you're not okay and we head home. Alright?"

Danny nodded, his head resting against the door of the Silverado, his eyes squinting at Steve. The fact that his partner didn't argue with him almost made Steve shove the man into the truck and drive him back anyway. His friend must have seen that.

"I'm good, Steve."

"Sure you are, partner …" Steve stood again, a hand resting on his friend's shoulder as he watched for Chin.

Within minutes, their teammate came jogging over, his gaze assessing both of them before an eyebrow cocked in question at Steve. Danny had closed his eyes, kept his head resting against the heat of the blue panel. He still looked worn out and ragged.

"He okay?"

"He will be. Let's see if we can get him inside."

Chin frowned.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

Steve took a deep breath in, held it, and then let it go as he struggled through his reply.

"No, Chin, I'm not sure. But he wants to watch Grace play. And I'm all for doing anything that smacks of normal at this point."

His friend studied his features, took in the obvious tenseness Steve knew he was holding throughout his body, and then nodded, clapping his hands together.

"Alright then. Up you get, Danny. You can't just sit there all day." Leave it to Chin to lighten the mood just enough. God, Steve loved the rock that made up the man.

Danny opened his eyelids, the first glint of humor that Steve had seen in what seemed like hours shone through and made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Wanna bet? I've done it before. Never underestimate my ability to idle, Chin Ho Kelly."

Danny smirked, raising a hand out to both men.

"Nice one, brah." Chin grinned back.

Steve had to admit, it was good to see his friend snark at someone else. He considered it one step back in the right direction of normal. Almost.

**~to be continued~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Authors Note:_**_ Another warm thanks to the ever tolerant, patience of a saint(s), beta's. You're the best!_

_Pohihihi – Not clearly understood._

_As ever … Enjoy!_

**Chapter 4**

"Just tell me why? One good reason that will prevent me from shoving this down your throat, and keep our medical examiner from picking up the pieces of your skull afterwards." Steve's rage highlighted every word, but the guy never flinched, so he pressed the muzzle of his SIG into the back of the dad's head, hard. He had to use his left hand, because he was certain his right one was busted.

"Steve …"

He brushed off Chin's warning. Saw red again, more than figuratively, when the guy underneath him half grinned, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth, coating his teeth, but offered Steve nothing. He let more weight shift over to the knee pressed into the guy's back, until the man grunted.

"Go ahead. Try to explain to me why your son being evicted from a game gave you the right to 'put the haole referee in his place'. And then why it seemed reasonable to kill the next ref for the same action."

"Steve …"

Steve bent over, his sneer just inches from the side of the man's bloodied face, all his upper body weight supported by his SIG still digging into the guy's skull.

"I hope your wife and son enjoy visiting you in Halawa the rest of your natural life. That is, if they'll still speak to you. Maybe, if you're lucky, your son will grow up to be a better man than you. Wouldn't take much, would it?"

Steve pushed off the guy, digging his knee and the SIG in harder.

"Get him out of here, Chin."

He watched the guy stagger down the hallway, his teammate manhandling him out the front door before Steve allowed himself to lean against the wall. He just wanted to take a shower, get the man's filth off him. But he couldn't yet. So he closed his eyes, pulling his damaged hand and wrist against his chest, still trying to make sense of everything that'd happened. Make sense of it … right.

It'd taken Five-0 another three months after Danny's melt down at KIHA to pin his beating on this guy. After his partner's attack, the rink had installed security cameras to their back, more deserted sections of the parking lot, and not advertised that they'd tightened things up. So when the idiot had actually killed the next ref who'd evicted his son from a game for illegal contact—a fatal beating this time—Five-0 finally had him dead to rights.

The guy had put up one hell of a fight, though. Used his wife and son, first as a shield, and then as hostages. Threatened both of them into submission. Law enforcement could actually hear the guy raging within the house. No one knew if their suspect had a weapon, so Five-0 hadn't waited. They'd stormed the place, Chin and Kono concentrating on getting out the wife and the son, leaving the raging lunatic for Steve to handle. And the guy was built like a two-story brick house, so right about now, Steve would actually admit that he _hurt_ just about everywhere from the takedown.

"Hey, boss? You okay?"

Steve cracked his eyelids open, adjusting the hold of his throbbing wrist before answering.

"No. I don't think so, Kono. Not this time."

She nodded. Steve could tell she understood that he wasn't talking about his physical injuries.

"Yeah, what a waste. I mean, who does that? It's a game … a sport. It wasn't like his kid was gonna make pro or anything. Heck, even if he was. To kill someone for evicting your kid from a game? I don't get it, boss. And I _was_ pro."

Steve pushed off the wall, slowly heading out the same way as Chin had, shaking his head. Danny's beating, the death of the young ref … he literally had no answer for her, so he kept moving, trying to stay ahead of the overwhelming futility of it all.

"You gonna call Danny?"

Steve stopped just past the threshold of the house, taking in the subdued, but still purposeful movements of emergency services all around them. Even as he stood there, uncertainty began to cover him like a shroud, because … Danny. What the hell was he supposed to say to Danny?

"Boss?"

Steve cleared his throat, glancing over at his teammate. She frowned at him, all kinds of worry oozing from the lone expression.

"No, I'm not gonna call him yet. I'll go get this looked at," Steve gestured to his arm, "get cleaned up, and then head over there. He doesn't have Grace tonight. I want to tell him in person."

"What _are_ you gonna tell him?"

Steve hesitated, looking back over the scene, picking out the HPD officers that were speaking with the wife and the kid by the ambulances.

"I don't know, Kono." He shrugged his shoulders, because in all honesty, he just hoped something would come to him by the time that he got there.

"You tell him the truth, brah. Just the truth. Danny can handle it." Chin had joined them after dumping the guy in Duke's lap. Seemed as if no one could stand to be around their suspect for more than a few minutes at a time. Like his sickness would leach out all over them or something.

A disgusted sound, that had nothing to do with laughter, escaped out of Steve.

"Yeah, sure. I'll just tell Danny that some ass wipe used him for a punching bag because of a game. I'm sure he'll understand. He's a hard core competitor. He'll get it." Sarcasm dripped from Steve's voice, his cheeks beginning to flush in anger, but Chin didn't flinch from the cutting remark. Which actually pissed Steve off more. Because he understood anger. It was familiar, almost comforting. "I mean, it's not like telling him that he almost died because the guy was just some thug from our job. Something he'd expect. It's not like we don't have enough threats coming our way for what we do." Steve's irrational mind, and some of the exasperation left over from the takedown, wanted to tear through the calm coming from the man standing before him. Even if he was his friend. "No. Instead Danny has to worry about a bunch of parents who think their little prodigies have a shot at going pro. The big times: huge salaries, huge endorsements, celebrity status ..." Steve had one handed air quoted the last bit and was just about to gain more steam when ...

"For God's sake! Who've you killed now?" Danny's voice ripped across Steve's angry one, even matched his intensity syllable for syllable, though there was no vehemence behind it. Not really. Not if you knew how to read Danny. And his 'ohana were experts at it. Especially Steve.

The SEAL's focus on Chin had prevented him from noticing his approaching partner, but the friend, who he'd just been tearing into, must have seen him. Because Chin had smirked before the distinctive voice that bellowed 'New Jersey's arrived' had cut in, and he'd let Steve blow off his anger and frustration anyway. The Hawaiian must've known that Steve had needed the outlet and that Danny would be able to help his partner pull it all back in again. Tilt the world back onto its proper axis.

"I leave you alone for one take down …"

His partner and Chin had exchanged a fist bump once Danny had gotten close enough, but their detective had never taken his gaze off Steve, studying him still.

He could feel the tumble of his raw emotions settle. Let his partner's voice wash over him, even though the man wasn't supposed to be there. Sometimes, like now, Steve was grateful that his partner could be as pig headed as he was, though he'd never tell him that.

"Why are you here, Daniel? I specifically recall banning you from being anywhere near this place."

"If you wanted me to stay away, you should have called me afterwards. I had to call Duke to find out it was all over. I swear none of you answer your phones anymore."

"I'm gonna have to have a conversation with Duke about sharing information with detectives that are supposed to be on light duty."

Danny chuffed.

"Yeah, good luck with that." His partner looked him up and down, his critical eye probably registering every injury he'd taken, even the ones not blatantly obvious. "So, ready to hop into your limo, Steven? Get a ride to the hospital in style so they can check you over, fix up whatever damage you've managed to do to that hand of yours?"

Steve glowered at the blond, though he wasn't even sure why he bothered sometimes. The man was practically immune after five years.

"I'm not going to Queens in an ambulance, Danny."

"Of course you're not. Come on, Rambo. I'm driving." After getting the Silverado's keys from Steve, Danny threw the Camaro's at Kono. "I want it back in one piece, woman."

"No promises, brah." Kono's eyes actually twinkled with mischief.

"Chin, don't let your cousin joy ride in my car," Danny threw back at the two before latching onto his partner's sleeve and tugging at it. "Come on, princess, your chariot awaits."

"We'll see you guys later. We'll hook up with Duke and make sure this gets closed down properly." Chin patted Steve on the shoulder, and nodded at Danny, before both he and Kono took off in the other direction.

By the time Steve crawled his way into the passenger seat of the Silverado, buckled up, and was resting his head back when Danny took off towards Queens, his partner had returned to throwing daggers at him in-between glimpses of the road.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about? Why you lit into Chin back there?"

"Rather not, Danny."

"Not one of your most shining moments, babe."

"No. Definitely not."

Steve stewed for a minute, trying to figure out how to even start the conversation, when it finally dawned on him. Danny had heard him. At least bits and pieces of his meltdown, anyway.

"You already know, don't you?"

"Yep, you forget. I'm a damn good detective. And you're pretty loud when you're angry. So, between my detective skills and you blowing off steam, I put the pieces together pretty quickly."

"How long?" Steve didn't buy it that Danny didn't know before he heard him take Chin's head off.

Danny chuffed.

"As soon as we found out the guy's name, I figured I could guess motive."

"But you didn't say anything."

"Wasn't important."

"Danny …"

"It's a sport, Steven. A sport I love. That I want to share with Grace, just like baseball. Just like you want to share your love of all things aquatic and dangerous with her. Same thing. And just because there's a bunch of psychotic parents out there that need to stop living their lives vicariously through their kids, I'm not gonna let that stop me, or stop you for that matter, from spending that time with my daughter."

Steve looked over at his partner, his head still resting back, thinking.

"Why not tell me?"

Danny quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his lips turning up a bit before he answered, still watching the road.

"Why not tell me, says Mr. Olympian." Danny chuckled, then got serious again, sort of. "I was gonna to tell you, Steve. I just wanted to see how crappy I was so I could prepare myself for the shit pile of ribbing that I'd get for doing something so hometown." Danny glanced over at him, an honest to God grin breaking out then. "Turns out I haven't lost much. So I'll take you on, you exasperating beast. You can come to a game—not that I could stop you—once I'm back on my skates."

A grin began to gather around the edges of Steve's mouth, then a warmth that was familiar within his guts. But he still needed more from his partner.

"Why'd you stop playing before, Danny? Ice hockey. Why'd you stop?"

Steve could see his partner roll his eyes at him, his gaze fixed straight ahead, fingers tapping the steering wheel.

"There's no mystery or life threatening reason, Steven. Not every decision I've made is because of blackmail or the danger of someone breaking my bones. I gave it up for Grace." Danny glanced over at him, a knowing look passing between them. The father's world would always revolve around Grace. "When she was born, there just wasn't enough time in the day for work, Rachel, and my daughter. So I gave it up, hoping to get back into it when she got older. Something that I could share with her, just like baseball."

"So you gonna keep letting her play? Even after this?"

"Yep. Even after this." Danny glanced over at him again, seeming to gauge how his next statement would be received. "Worst game of Jenga ever."

Steve knitted his eyebrows together and sat up a bit straighter. He'd missed something. Something important.

"What?"

Danny kept his eyes glued to the road, refusing to look at him.

"You gotta change man, you can't live like that. Start small ..."

Steve kept staring, a slow smile creeping into a full one. He sat back, his head against the headrest, his eyes closed.

"So you do listen to me sometimes."

A long, comfortable silence fell between them.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Steven. You just keep telling yourself that."

H50

"Come on! Come on, Danny!" Kono was standing, both hands belled around the edges of her mouth like a bullhorn. She'd been up and down off the bleacher seats for the last seven minutes.

"Yeah, get it. Get it, Danny," Chin mumbled to no one in particular. He was leaning forward, his hand on his cousin's hip to move her back, force her to sit as Danny skated down the rink towards the goal. He visibly flinched though, when their mainlander went down, hard, crashing into the boards and lost the puck to a defender.

"Oi …! How'd you miss that tripping call, ref? He only tried to smash his head into the boards again!" Kono was up once more. "Get another job, you moron, 'cause you suck at this one!" She was standing on the seat row in front of them, towering over everyone, face red, obviously ready to jump down the remaining seats and into the rink if Danny didn't get up soon.

Steve didn't try to stop her. He was also standing, rubbing the fingers of his casted right wrist, his gaze locked onto his partner. He watched, relief settling over him when Danny nodded to the two players of his team that had helped him up after the whistle had finally sounded. That he'd been tripped from behind and never saw it coming had made Steve tense up, but his friend seemed to shake it off fine.

"About time, ref!" Kono was still yelling, even though the foul allowed Danny a penalty shot.

Steve turned to Chin after Danny had scored, his partner's team up by four. His features had darkened, his fingers clenching and unclenching.

"That the same guy?"

"Yep, same team. Same guy. They've developed a bit of a reputation now. Him more so than the others." Chin nodded his head towards the rink, following #66, the last name Matsuoka clearly emblazoned above the number. And then the Hawaiian was standing, yelling his own frustration at the refs as the buzzer sounded, ending the game.

"What the hell, ref?"

Danny had taken a slash from Matsuoka to the face. He was down again. Steve could just begin to see the blood blossoming underneath his partner's gloved hands before Danny was up and skating after the other player, his face covered in red as he tore his gloves off. Steve watched as their right winger crashed into the guy from behind, taking them both down to the tiles in an unglorified heap.

"That's it," Steve growled. "I've seen enough." No one heard him. All three team members were moving. It seemed as if the bleachers had emptied onto the rink. By the time Steve hit the floor, Matsuoka had Danny pinned underneath him and was trying to pummel his face. The guy outweighed his partner by at least eighty pounds but Danny was protecting himself pretty well with his arms. Steve's vision crimsoned once he got his hands on the guy. And then time just kind of winked out on him.

"Steve …! Steve, knock it off! Get off him!"

That was Danny's voice, Danny's bloodied hands on his shoulders, latched onto his t-shirt and trying to pull him backwards. Steve's right arm was cocked, his fingers fisted, his left hand clenching the green and black jersey that he'd lifted to pull the downed man's shoulders slightly off the rinks surface.

"Steve, come on. He's had enough." Danny tugged again, ripping one shoulder of his shirt at the seams. "Come on, Steve. I'm fine. Let him go."

Steve leaned forward, dropping the guy back to the ground but not letting loose of the jersey. The force of his growl blew across the man's blood and sweat covered face.

"Touch him again and you'll be playing your next game of hockey on a sled—for Special Olympics." It wasn't until Steve felt a forearm around his neck and saw the bloodied fist latch back onto his shirt that he let go of the guy, falling backwards into the persistent tug. He landed, he assumed, in Danny's lap. At least he hoped it was just Danny's.

"You idiot. Let me see."

Yep, Danny's legs were tucked on either side of him, his bulky arms around his chest still pulling him backwards. Steve didn't resist, leaning back into his partner as the pain in his right hand began to register.

"Jesus, Steven. You're gonna need to get this re-casted. Probably re-set, too."

The anchor of the cast, the piece that ran across Steve's palm and between his thumb and forefinger was broken, almost pulverized, and covered in blood. So was the rest of his cast and bits of his t-shirt. Steve's knuckles were split open and swelling already, too. At this point Steve couldn't tell if it was his or Matsuoka's blood all over him.

"Okay, that's just disgusting." Danny plucked the offensive cotton away from Steve's chest. "What were you thinking?"

He shrugged, his gaze still hammering into the guy barely able to crawl away from them.

"No one messes with 'ohana, Danny."

By the time the rink had been cleared and the officials mollified, Steve and his partner were being shuttled off to Queens by their teammates. They had another ten, maybe fifteen minutes to go before they got there. Chin was driving Steve's truck, Kono riding shotgun. Steve and Danny had been piled into the back, and for whatever reason, he was now lounging with his back pressed into his partner's chest, Danny crammed into the corner of the rig, supporting him.

Danny likely needed stitches to his nose and a quick check to make sure it hadn't been re-broken, though their right winger swore that he'd know if it had been. His partner would be sporting two black eyes by tomorrow morning, which made Steve growl and want to return to the rink anytime he thought about it. Tear the rink apart, just to blow off the anger that he felt at the sight of his, once again, injured partner.

Steve definitely needed his hand re x-rayed and re-casted. It was broken again for sure, his fingers taking on the semblance of plump, fatty sausages. Kono had laughed at him when he'd made the analogy. By this point, even ice wasn't keeping the swelling at bay, but it was keeping the throbbing to a minimum. So he was at least grateful for that.

Both cousins had managed to stay clear, for the most part, of the free for all, though Steve had caught a glimpse of Kono taking out the away team's other forward at the knees. The guy had been looking to help his teammate and was aiming for both Danny and Steve when she'd taken care of him.

"Ah … glad you're on our team, Kalakaua. Nice take down back there." Steve knew he would get grief from Chin for encouraging her. And an enthusiastic retort would have her cousin frowning at him also. Steve was glad he couldn't see it.

"Nah, brah. I was just getting warmed up." Her grin morphed into one of concern though, when Danny groaned from under the bag of ice across his nose and covering most of his face. "You okay, Danny?"

"Haven't we done this before?" Danny looked up briefly to smirk back at her, resting his head back again between the seat and the door frame, the dripping ice bag back in place. Steve was certain the guy was going to freeze his face off if he kept it on there any longer.

"Seems like it," Chin answered before anyone else could. Steve caught Chin's glance in the rear view mirror. "Think maybe you could pick a different sport, Danny. Maybe something … I don't know, a little less hazardous to your health … and maybe ours?

Kono snorted.

"Yeah, brah. Any other hazardous sports or activities that we need to know about, that you've failed to share with the team? It's not like you don't have enough excitement trailing behind first Boss all day …"

"Trailing behind? Trailing behind, Kalakaua? Who says I trail behind …?"

Steve caught Chin's gaze again. His teammate raised an eyebrow at his smirk, but then nodded. Steve closed his eyes and became lost in the safety of his 'ohana. He let his body melt into the hard, compact torso of his partner, patted the man's leg as the sounds of his friends washed over him. He must have drifted off, because he hadn't realized that the rig had gone quiet until his partner's whisper drifted past his ear.

"You okay, partner?"

"Never better, Danny. Never better."

**~the end~**


End file.
